Twisted Cinderella
by TheDominoAngel
Summary: This was a subject for my Creative Writing class. We were assigned to created a twisted fairy tale, mine was Cinderella. I may be creating more chapters,in my spare time. Constructive Critisism, Reviews, and possibly faves would be nice,NO Flames, Please!


On a gray gloomy morning, in the back alleys of London, a seemingly rich man walks about with a nervous yet frantic look on his face. He had been wandering these alleys hoping to dodge anyone who would inform certain people that he didn't have their money. This man was a lower aristocrat, his clothes screamed of it. He made several loans from the wrong people and had foolishly brushed them off. He had gone through his money as a beggar would with food and he knew that , sooner or later, people would be after him. What he didn't know was that one of the best assassins in London was after him.

* * *

Cinderella had received the assignment this morning in the usual place. The Blue Room pub on East Street was where her target had been seen before he turned into the alleys. "_Foolish man," _She thought, _"The alleys are ALWAYS more dangerous than the open streets, but people don't understand that." _She had been in her profession for years now, ever since she was old enough to be put out of the house because of lack of income. That day, she had been forced to learn to survive or die trying. Her mentor had seen her fighting off a couple of drunks tooth and nail. He managed to get her out of there and took her under his wing. That day, she became his apprentice.

FLASHBACK

They were walking down the street, leaving the drunks that had attacked her. " You got spunk, kid. And you're a bit of a spitfire. What's you name?" "Ella." She murmured. "Cinder seems to suit you better. I know! I'll call you Cinder-Ella, How's that sound?" "Okay!" She beamed. She liked the fact that this man would call her by such a creative name. "What's your name?" She asked him. "I have a lot of them, but you can call me Uncle James, if you like." She looked ahead as they were walking. "Uncle James, Can I ask you something?" "Go Ahead." "Can I hold your hand? Those mean men scared me." He looked down at her and beamed. "Sure." They walked down the street, hand in hand, her smiling all the way.

During those years, he taught her everything he knew, from poisons and antidotes to using various weapons. He gave her an education, which was more than she could ask for. He was a kind man, but he could be the most heartless, cold, and callously cruel person she had ever met when it came to his job. He was shrewd, always getting the best price for his targets, depending on rank. One day when she came back from her most recent assignment, she found him dead in his favorite chair. There were no wounds, abrasions, or injection sites. What she did find was poisoned food, discolored lips, and the fact that his airways had closed. The only sign that someone had been there was that a long list of targeted aristocrats was missing. After that she followed every lead, every rumor, to no avail.

END FLASHBACK

She snapped herself out of her reverie. The man appeared afraid, he kept twisting and turning through the alleys, trying to throw anyone off. Too bad that he didn't know that she knew them like the back of her hand. Eventually, he tuned himself into a dead end. He whirled around looking terrified. Once he saw her, his expression dissolved into a smirk filled with malice and arrogant power. "Oh, It's only you. I suppose you want money, and what would you give me for it?" He walked swiftly toward her and touched her face. This is exactly what she was hoping for. She steeled her gaze at him.

"Nothing really, only what should have been given a long time ago." He looked at her puzzled. The dagger Cinderella was carrying buried itself in his stomach. His eyes grew wide as he pushed her away, the wound bleeding profusely. "You lying, thieving…" His speech was cut short as she came up behind him and laid a crimson sash across his throat. His speech was garbled and muffled as he clutched at the wound. He fell to the ground, a bloody pool seeping from him. She then dropped the generic knife and walked away. Anywhere else it would have been murder, here it was just another poor soul who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was over now, she would go back to her rented room, change, and collect her pay. Hopefully after that she could get some sleep.

When she arrived at the rented room, the usual messenger was there. "Headquarters has the next one for you. Be there in four hours. That should give you enough time to finish things up." She went into her room and changed out of her bloody costume into something more suitable. Her usual green long coat, black shirt, trousers, and boots would have to do. After she changed, she washed her face, hands, and hair. Then she proceeded to go downstairs and ordered her usual meal. After she was finished, Cinderella paid for everything (and gave a generous tip) and left. She stalked down the street, staring down anyone who looked at her funny. After about 15 minutes of walking, she arrived at "Headquarters". The actual building was very shabby, with paint peeling, wood splintering and a very despairing look to it. Despite this, Cinderella knew that this place was the very center of London's crime.

All of the lowest criminals came here to collect pay for their deeds and to report to there bosses. She walked in, the guard letting her pass. The noise in the room diminishes only slightly as some began to whisper. Some only disliked her, others were outright disrespectful. Most actually respected her and they showed it. They parted the way for her, giving her easy access to the stairs. She made her way to what was known as the War Room. When she reached it, She stood in front of the gnarled door, and took a couple of deep breaths. "You can do this, they may intimidate you, but your faster and smarter." She thought. She than placed her hand on the doorknob and stepped inside. It was fairly dim, but she was so used to it she barely noticed. She automatically steeled herself. This was a room of cobras, willing and ready to strike her down when they wished. The Big Boss, as he was known, was perched at his luxurious mahogany desk. His numerous rings glittered maliciously. "So, you have completed your assignment, good, but you're next one will require you to become involved with some associates of ours." "Who would your "associates" be? "A small gypsy clan heading for a prince's palace to perform there. You are to travel with them, impersonate a duchess, and poison the prince." "Why would I do that? I would be killed." "We have taken that into account and there is someone who we have prepared to take your place. Despite their record, they are prepared for this." "That's all well and good, but I have one question, Why poison a prince?" "The same reason as always, Money and Power." He said. She nodded.


End file.
